Casual Easy
by element78
Summary: They don't really get together so much as fall together, because it's the casual easy thing to do, for better or for worse. Balthazar/Dave


The sex is as easy and good as it always should be. It's also completely accidental, which is so horribly clichéd and yet so very true. Had either of them stopped to think about it, it probably wouldn't have happened. But thinking is overrated and that moment is about bare skin and sweat and magic and murmurs and silk sheets that weren't silk thirty seconds ago and doing what feels good because it feels good. It's about heavy-lidded eyes and lips quirked in amusement. It's about how easy they fit together, how right it feels. Thinking is for later.

Unfortunately, panicking is for later as well, and one of them wakes up alone.

He finds a neon orange post-it note slapped onto the bathroom mirror- _skin hunger_. He knows what it means, it's not difficult to figure out, but he looks it up online anyways. It's meant as an excuse, maybe, or an apology.

He can't tell which one of them it's supposed to apply to.

* * *

It's not like things fall apart immediately afterward, or even get really weird. They both have relationships, and relationships take work, work of the 'thou shalt not sleep around' variety. It's better just to forget and move on.

Easier.

And for a while, it honestly is. Everything is as it should be and nothing has changed at all. There's school and magic lessons and dates with their respective girlfriends; homework and tension, yelling and laughing, tea and Mountain Dew and pizza. There's no hidden meanings or innuendoes or lingering glances. It's a casual easy friendship with no strings attached and they both deserve it, after the lives they've lived. Even if it is very difficult to follow up 'spent a millennium searching for someone who might not even exist' with 'was picked on in high school'.

Except time and life ever move onward, and most relationships are messy and complicated and sometimes make the casual easy thing look so much more appealing.

There's a fight, which is rare; there's screaming, which is even rarer. Then there's kissing, which according to the movies is a perfectly acceptable alternative to apologizing and forgiving, except it's not the quarreling couple who are kissing.

This time there's plenty of warning. All it would take is for one of them to say no. Neither of them do. It's easy and it's right and it's the beginning of a trend, they both see that, but they can't really bring themselves to care.

* * *

So sex becomes a part of their routine.

It's not organized or predictable and certainly not a regular occurrence; it's random, spontaneous, and maddening in its infrequency. It's about touch, most times, because the post-it on the bathroom mirror wasn't wrong, and because they're both starved for something that just feels so _right_.

The point on which they balance is still magic, because it's so deeply ingrained into both of them. Leaving magic off to the side and building any sort of relationship without its influence is like trying to step out of your skin for a stroll around the block. It's just- the sex is a new layer, a new way to connect. It's not about the learning, it's about the living, and there's magic everywhere and in everything if you know how and where to look.

In its most basic, honest form, it's cheating, which is hard on the morally minded. After all, they both have real relationships that are going places, with real people. People are so easy to hurt, the female form of people especially, and the male form are so horrible at talking. Perhaps there's a way to solve this, a graceful way for everything to fit together so they can have both complicated and easy. Neither of them even know how to begin to go about looking for it.

It's not something to look at too closely.

* * *

It can't actually be called 'sleeping together', and not just because of some lewd comment about not sleeping. They literally don't sleep together. One or the other always leaves, as if not sharing a bed for platonic activities forgives their sharing one for other reasons. It's not something they ever agreed on; it's just one of the rules, unspoken like all the rest.

There's a reason for it.

Everything slips into focus and out of place one day, when lips pressed against sweat-salty skin pant out three little words. The world's too busy coming off its axle for them to mean anything at that moment, but later- later-

The post-it note is still stuck to the mirror. It's become an instillation, just one more random oddity, like the accepted fact that all pens in the lab will eventually, somehow, turn into purple highlighters. He leans against the sink in such a way that the words- _skin hunger- _are dead-center on his forehead.

_Well, now what?_

* * *

Then-

"Oh. _Oh._"

"Oh, I didn't mean-"

"I'm sorry, I'll just…"

And then-

"No, I get it."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm not mad!"

And then-

"It's not your fault."

"I just- I can't-"

"I still love you."

"We can still be friends."

There's nothing to be said to that. Then they go through it a second time, because both girls deserve to know, and because there's lying and then there's _lying_.

It doesn't get easier.

* * *

In a way it's a relief, except how it's not. Having your girlfriend walk in on you and another guy is about as much fun as it sounds, but things were slipping before that. At some point, without either of them noticing, the casual easy thing became the messy complicated thing. There are hurt feelings and sharp words and long silences.

Theirs is a two-pronged relationship; master-apprentice and lovers. The latter is quickly put to an end when it begins to threaten the former. It makes everything easy again, and if there's disappointment in the lack of sex neither will admit to it.

* * *

The _skin hunger_ note is a taunt, a challenge. He peels it off the mirror and systematically reduces it to confetti.

* * *

The problem is, when working closely to temptation, it's impossible to keep eyes and hands to one's self. And sometimes the body doesn't listen when the brain says 'no'.

This time, there's no talking, so no accidental confessions. In fact, the entire encounter has an air of anger and aggression, and there will be bruises to remember it by for several days. It tastes like victory and regret and hurt.

The note this time, written in purple highlighter, says _regret_.

It had been a monumentally bad idea to begin with, he tells himself. It simply shouldn't have happened.

Then he remembers three little words, pressed against his skin, and studies his reflection for a long time. _Regret_ hangs over his left shoulder like a specter; he's got plenty of both already. He wonders how it got so complicated so quickly. He wonders if he'd going to sabotage every relationship he gets into.

Then he wonders if he's always been an idiot and goes off to apologize.

* * *

It's not easy and it's not casual- they've lost that and there's no getting it back. Something new, though- it's fun, and it's open, and it's honest. It means waking up next to someone in the morning.

Magic is still the focal point, because that's just who they are. There's still school and homework and the never-ending war between Mountain Dew and tea that got vicious in record time. There's a bargain: no reality TV in exchange for no zapping people with Tesla coils. There's an explosion, once, that doesn't really have a cause, and don't the police absolutely _love_ that. Three days after they run a purple highlighter collection and have them all tucked into a box, the markers all turn into puce-green colored pencils.

The note on the mirror changes almost daily. It's always one word or two, never sappy- they are both guys, after all- not always happy, since this is real life and not some trashy romance novel. The one that lasts the longest is also the one that freely admits that which neither will say but both know:

_love_

* * *

A/N: I banged this out in thirty-five minutes and it was only on my third read-through that I realized- no names. Not once. It's kinda messy and short and not-so-kinda pointless, but I still like it.

I'm not necessarily happy about the ending, but I've fidgeted it half to death and this is what stuck. If I come up with a better version I'll repost. Also, I apologize for the line breaks, but I needed them.


End file.
